
Passing 




IRENE WELCH GRISSOM 



THE PASSING 



OF THE 



SAGEBRUSH 



OTHER VERSE 



BY IRENE WELCH GRISSOIVt 

Author of " The Superintendent." 



Scott's "Quality" Print 
idaho falls, idaho 

1916. 



J 3 ^ 



Copyright 1916. 
IRE.NE. WELCH GRI5SOM. 

Printed for the friends who have expressed appreciation of my Poems. 
Idaho Falls, Idaho. 



MAY 12 1916 



©CI.A430842 

*W ( . 



" Poetry is God's Wine." 

—Ralph Waldo Emerson. 



CONTENTS. 



Page 

THE PASSING OF THE. SAGEBRUSH 7 

THE CONSERVATION OF OUR FORESTS - - - - 9 

A GLIMPSE OF THE CANADIAN PRAIRIE ... - 1 1 

THE 5HEEPHERDER ......... \2 

THE FOREST'S ANSWER -------- 13 

GRATITUDE 15 

THE SLASON5. 

THE PASSING OF THE LEAVES ------ 16 

A WINTER NIGHT --..,-' 17 

SUMMER - - - - - - 18 

THE LAUGHING BROOK -------- 19 

DAYBREAK ----------- 20 

EVENTIDE ------------ 20 

NOVEMBER ----------- 2 1 

ROSE O' THE JUNE --------- 23 

THE LAND OF VISIONS ........ 24 

SONGS O' THL NIGHT. 

WIND O* THE NIGHT ......... 25 

LULLABY O' THE NIGHT -------- 26 

MIST O' THE NIGHT --------- 27 

MOON O' THE NIGHT 28 

NIGHT O' THE JUNE --------- 29 

NIGHT ON THE PLAINS -------- 30 

THE MESSAGE OF THE STARS - - - - - - 31 

THE MESSAGE OF THE NIGHT ------ 32 

ETERNAL SLEEP - - - 33 

THE RIVER THAT RUNS BETWEEN ----- 33 

THE DIGNITY OF LABOR -------- 34 

THE TEMPLES OF GOD -------- 35 

GOD-IN-ALL ----------- 35 

THE PRISONER ---------- 37 

THE COMMON PEOPLE - - - - - - - - 38 

A PRAYER ----------- 40 

THE COMMON HEART - - - - - - - - 41 

MY FRIEND AND I --------- 42 



THE PASSING OF THE 
SAGEBRUSH. 



Weary miles the sagebrush stretches, inscrutable and 
somber, 

Out and away to the far horizon, where gleaming - heat 
waves quiver 

In a shimmering, trembling line that runs like a mystical 
river, 

From north to south, from east to west, in restless, cease- 
less wander, 
A never-ending circle that girds a mighty land, 
Untouched as yet by man's transforming hand. 

The dusty sagebrush tosses sad, gray arms to the deep 

blue sky, 
That holds no cooling clouds, white-piled in snowy beauty 

bright, 
Or dark-massed, low-hanging, shot through with flashes 

of light, 
Holding promise of rain for the earth, long weeks thirsty 

and dry, 
Though e\(er a wondrous river runs, lava-walled, 
Deep-canyoned, long years have its waters called. 

Came one day a splendid dreamer, a man with a prophet's 

heart, 
Long he stood by the deep-running river, for he heard 

the water call; 
Long he studied the broad, grand acres that stretched 

from the lava-wall, 
Sage-clad, dusty, yet to the dreamer's eye a gracious part 
Of a marvelous land, the waste transformed, 
The sagebrush passing for a land new born. 



8 THE PASSING OF THE SAGEBRUSH 

But a few short years are fled, and lo, the miracle is 

wrought; 
Green fields are bordered with flowering orchards, and in 

among 
Like silver paths, in gleaming lines, the irrigating ditches 

run. 
They carry the life-giving water, that many long miles 

is brought, 
Prom far above the canyon, lava-walled and deep, 
Through broad canals the welcome waters sweep. 

The passing of the sagebrush, the desert new made, fair 
and green, 

Dotted with nestling farm houses where the happy chil- 
dren play 

All through the splendid sunlit hours of a fragrant, golden 
day: 

No miracle ever wrought more gracious, more marvelous 
seems 
Than the passing of the sagebrush gray, 
Receding from sight with the yesterday. 



THE, PASSING OF THE SAGE-BRUSH 



THE CONSERVATION OF OUR FORESTS. 

Great forests are ours filled with mighty trees, 
Dame Nature spent centuries creating these, 
Knowing her darlings, the children of men, 
In building their homes had need of them. 
To conserve the water from the clouds on high, 
And send it along when the earth grows dry, 
She covers the grounds with leaves and moss, 
Safe held is the moisture, it cannot be lost. 
It comes to us through spring, brook and river, 
Swift streams on their way to the ocean deliver 
The power that turns countless wheels of trade, 
For the march of progress must not be delayed. 
Where forests are cut from the watershed 
Great floods by thousands number their dead. 

When our forests go, man will cease to be; 
Human life depends on the life of the tree. 
What a duty is ours, what a task sublime, 
To conserve these riches through endless time! 
For this generation and those that will come 
Trees are as vital as the light of the sun. 
Let us thunder this truth in a voice so clear 
That all of our people will listen and hear. 
The reckless slaughter of trees immature, 
By men who see only the price and its lure, 
Who use the forest for mere selfish gain, 
Destroy and wreck without sense of shame, 
Must cease, and today, if in years to come 
The course of mankind shall continue to run. 



10 THE, PASSING OF THE 5AGLBRUSH 

The disaster and loss by fires each season 
Shows a nation bereft of its logical reason. 
Cutover lands are left by loggers rash, 
Wiho fail to remain and burn off the slash. 
Fires run in wild riot among these lands, 
Onward they sweep where the forest stands 
Somber and majestic with century-old trees, 
Night hiding forever in the boughs and leaves. 
A careless camper leaves embers alive, 
And an army of men must heroically strive 
To subdue the flames his hand let loose 
In his crime against Nature, forest abuse. 
A red spark from an engine flutters away 
And smoke from great fires darkens the day. 

Now the time has come when we must demand 
True conservation throughout all our land. 
It is vital alike to man, woman and child, 
That wise laws check all destruction wild. 
The public must know, and the public must care! 
Already Dame Nature is calling: "Beware!" 
As the life of the tree is the life of a man, 
This truth was stated when the world began. 
The Great Architect of the Universe spoke, 
And voiced to his people this wondrous hope: 
"I will set in the desert the great fir tree, 
The pine and the box tree together shall be. 
They shall provide thee with shelter and rest, 
Their glory and power forever is blest!" 



THL PA55ING OF THL SAGLBRU5H 



A GLIMP5L OF THL CANADIAN PRAIRIE.. 

A lonely house against a lonely sky, 
Lonely winds ever blowing by, 
Rustling grasses, crisp and dry, 
Wearily nod, complain, and sigh. 

A long, brown furrow, fresh upturned sod, 
The patient ox where the buffalo trod, 
A man, with courage born of God, 
Steadily ploughing, rod after rod. 

Dead, white winter, cruel and cold, 
Faced unafraid by one brave and bold, 
Knowing a secret the safe earth holds 
Of seeds lying deep in soft, dark mould. 

A golden day, green Spring has come, 
An earth caressed by a radiant sun, 
Soft winds at play, that in joyous fun 
Over the wheat their wild races run. 

Come yellow the fields, like cloth of gold, 
Whose shimmering lengths the wind unrolls. 
Now giant machines the heads close fold, 
Another month, and the wheat is sold. 

And the man, full content, sows and reaps, 
In his lonely house he sweetly sleeps, 
Far from the cities where humanity creeps 
Weary and worn through the crowded streets. 



12 THL PA55ING OF THL 5AGLBRUSH 



THL 5HLE.PHLRDLR. 

Wide and scattered lie the sheep, 

White dots on the noontide plain. 
The air is heavy, hushed with sleep, 

The west holds promise of rain. 
The heat waves shimmer, wave on wave, 

On the blue horizon far away. 
Off to the left a coyote raves, 

As if cursing the light of day. 

Fed by a spring that never fails 

A lone tree marks the water hole. 
The wind in the branches ever wails 

A solemn dirge for thirsty souls 
Failing to reach the crystal spring. 

A somber buzzard, high overhead, 
Wheels and dips on widespread wing, 

Searching the plain for helpless dead. 

A lonely figure the herder stands, 

Looking out beyond his flock of sheep. 
Dreaming, perchance, of other lands 

Where forests lie cool, green and deep. 
Erown eyes raised to his master's face 

By his side is a noble shepherd dog: 
These two alone in the dreary waste: 

For this true friend he thanks his God. 



THE PA55ING OF THE SAGEBRUSH 13 

THE FOREST'S ANSWER. 

Deep in the heart of the forest, in the heat of the noontide 

still, 
A thrush was singing a gladsome song by the side of a 

silver rill: 
A woodpecker drummed on a hollow branch with steady, 

tireless bill, 
A fir tree rocked its lullaby on the crest of a sun-crowned 

hill. 

Myriad voices rose and fell, the forest was teeming with 

life. 
It sprang in glad abundance now the earth with food 

was rife. 
Behind lay the cruel winter when to live meant storm 

and strife; 
No hint remained of its fury in this day all sunlit and 

blithe. 

I came to the great, green forest, my spirit crushed low 

in defeat; 
The battle of life was for the strong, the race to him 

who was fleet. 
And I was a weary plodder whom failure leaped ever 

to meet, 
Others might pluck life's roses, the thorns were for me 

to keep. 

Deep in the shade of the fir tree, while my body lay 

at rest, 
My weary mind went searching on the same old dreary 

quest: 
Seeking the grim, grave answer: why had I failed in 

the test? 
I said aloud to the forest world: "I know I have done 

my best." 



14 THE PASSING OF THL 5AGLBRU5H 

The thrush by the rill stopped singing, the woodpecker 

ceased to drum, 
A cloud above in the great blue sky passed over the glowing 

sun; 
The forest suddenly darkened, gone was the chatter and 

fun; 
The wind that swayed the branches grew silent and ceased 

to hum. 

Then myriad voices rose and fell, the forest pulsed with 

scorn. 
"You coward!" the thrush sang loudly, "you need to 

be reborn! 
Fling your tears and sighs behind you, the world is new 

each morn, 
Meet life as do forest creatures, dauntless in sunshine 

or storm." 

The woodpecker drummed in anger: "Away with your 

weakling's whine! 
Don't whimper to us of the forest, it's an insult to me and 

to mine. 
You sit at the foot of the mountain, looking up to the sky 

for a sign, 
The way to attain that far summit is to steadily clutch 

and climb." 

The forest scorned and mocked me 'till my cheeks burned 

hot with shame; 
I had found my grim, grave answer: the world was not 

to blame. 
I had been lacking in courage, resenting the storm and 

the rain, 
My bitter thoughts had chained me 'till all joy was lost 

in pain. 



THL PASSING OF THL SAGE.BRU5H 15 

I said aloud to the forest world: "My words were foolish 

and weak. 
No wonder you scorned and mocked me out of your valor 

deep. 
I was not willing to slowly climb, I wanted to mount 

with a leap: 
I will return to my humble task and my courage high 

I'll keep." 

Deep in the heart of the forest, I rebuilt my tired 

will: 
The thrush sang on its happy song by the side of the 

silver rill: 
The woodpecker drummed on a hollow branch with a 

steady, tireless bill, 
A fir tree rocked its lullaby on the crest of a sun-crowned 

hill. 

GRATITUDE.. 

To be worthy of life, the gift divine, 

Say to the bird: "Your song is mine!" 

Stand at night with heart athrob, 

And exult in the wonder and glory of God. 

Wake at dawn, when the east is aglow, 

Saying to life: "Oh, I love you so!" 

Know that the gift is a priceless one, 
Be worthy each hour that the golden sun 
Wheels in his course from east to west. 
Into your life weave all that is best, 
Hope, love, charity, faith in mankind, 
Let these be visions that fill thy mind. 

Trust in the largeness and beauty of life, 
Be worthy of all of its joys and strife. 
Make each tomorrow a welcome guest, 
Regard every trial as only a test 
Of thy faith in life, the gift divine, 
Holding everything lovely, true and fine. 



16 THE, PASSING OF THE SAGEBRUSH 



THE SEASONS. 



THE PASSING OF THE LEAVES. 

In a blaze of glory the great 'hill stands 
A radiance of crimson and gold, 

For the frost of Autumn, with caressing hands, 
Has touched the scrub oaks bold. 

Their leaves are aflame with a passion of love, 
In a quiver of trembling delight 

They lift radiant faces to the blue sky above, 
All bathed in shimmering light. 

Dark green pine trees crown the great hill, 

Stately they are, and tall; 
"Vory silent they stand, all somber and still, 

They know the secret of Fall. 

For always the touch of the caressing hand 
The frost softly lays on the leaves 

Tightens to the grasp of cruel iron bands, 
Ere winds of winter freeze. 

The leaves little know 'tis the touch of Death, 
That has painted their colors rare, 

They cannot feel the menacing breath 
The Frost King breathes on the air. 

Yet I think the leaves would not regret, 

Even if they could know, 
In such glorious beauty is their passing set 

As the Autumns come and go. 



THL PA55ING OF THE 5AGLBRU5H 17 



A WINTER NIGHT. 

The crimson and gold of frost-caressed Fall 
Are deeply hidden under winter snows; 

The winter wind sobs, in a wild, sad call, 
As far in the night it wearily goes. 

The cold stars tremble in the great night sky 
With radiance strangely bright, 

In a sky of black velvet are they held on high 
As they dart out their silvery light. 

Save for the wind, and its wild, wailing cry, 
The night holds silence profound. 

All still and white the wide fields lie, 
For the snow is deep on the ground. 

The sad trees tremble with strange, odd quiver, 
As naked branches they drearily toss, 

And always and ever they sob and shiver 
For the summertime long since lost. 

All stripped of its leaves the rose bush stands, 

Its flowers a memory fair, 
The winds of winter, with cruel hands, 

Tear at its branches bare. 

'Tis a night of death, yet hope whispers sweet, 

In a murmur from far away: 
"The green leaves and flowers are only asleep, 

Silently waiting a summer's day." 

"Then a miracle old, yet forever new, 

Shall thrill thy heart and soul, 
For the roses shall hang, all heavy with dew, 

When the summer time unfolds." 



18 THE PASSING OF THL SAGEBRUSH 

There is always a promise in winter's breath, 
For the soul that bends an ear, 

And listening love, in the night of death, 
A rustle of life can hear. 



5UMMLR. 

Summer is laughing across the sky, 
Laughing while winds blow merrily by, 
Swift runs the river, a silver stream, 
Bordered by banks of emerald green. 

A bird is singing in a great pine tree, 
JRocking and swinging in riotous glee, 
A nest is hidden in the branches deep, 
Where tiny birds very softly peep. 

Children are playing across the way, 
Their voices ring out blithesome and gay, 
The glad fields echo the merry cry, 
Swinging the sound now low, now high. 

In a world of laughter, beauty and song, 
Gay Summer comes winging her way along, 
Fling in the past every tear, every sigh, 
Summer is laughing across the sky. 



THE, PASSING OF THL SAGLBRUSH 19 



THE LAUGHING BROOK 

The crystal brook laughed for the spring had come 

And the earth was yellow with the gold of the sun, 

The grass was green, fragrant flowers in bloom, 

The wind in the trees softly singing a tune 

That was centuries old, yet forever new, 

As is each gleaming drop of the diamond dew. 

The crystal brook laughed for the birds had come, 

And soft on the air was the insects' hum. 

The great day sky shone with marvelous hue, 

Eanks of snow-white clouds on turquoise blue, 

In the grassy field yellow flowers shone, 

A butterfly poised on a golden throne. 

The crystal brook laughed in its silver throat, 
And the air caught and held the rippling note, 
E lending it in with the song of birds 
Anil soft sighing wind, a song without words, 
Vibrant with chords that were wondrous sweet, 
Rising and swelling the spring time to greet. 

The crystal brook laughed in radiant glee, 
For the magic of spring had set it free 
From the winter's prison, and the ice-bound days, 
'Neath a sad, gray sky shedding cheerless rays. 
A strange white world, lifeless and still, 
Locked in the grasp of relentless chill. 

The crystal brook laughed for the spring had come 
And the air was yellow with the gold of the sun, 
The world ran riot with fragrance and light, 
Shimmering with colors resplendent and bright, 
And the song without words throbbed on the air, 
Revealing God, in its melody rare. 



20 THE PASSING OF THL SAGEBRUSH 

DAYBREAK. 

Low in the west hung the silver moon, 

The east was pink with dawn. 
The soft wind whispered: "Day cometh soon!" 

A bird sang: "Night is gone!" 

The dark shadows trembled, then turned and fled 
From the fields and hills away. 

The glow in the east became radiant red, 
The gates opened wide to Day. 

In a burst of song and a flood of light, 

The sun flashed on his way. 
The whole world gleamed with radiance bright, 

Night had turned to Day. 



LVLNTIDE.. 

The air is dewy, fragrant and still, 

As long, soft shadows creep 
From stately trees that crown the hill, 

Down where the flowers sleep. 

The night wind wanders away to sing 

In whispering leaves of the trees, 
The drowsy insects, on fluttering wings, 

The sleeping flowers tease. 

From a hidden nest comes a musical chirp, 

A leafy bough gently swings, 
There are nestling movements and drowsy flirts 

Of tender, soft-feathered wings. 

The night sky is blushing with faint, rosy light, 
From the last, ardent kiss of the sun, 

Gone 'til the morrow, in his splendor and might, 
For the long, hot day is done. 



THE PA55ING OF THE SAGEBRUSH 21 

The first evening star half shyly peeps, 

With tender, silvery light, 
To see if the flowers are all asleep, 

Safe folded away for the night. 

The green bordered brook is humming a song, 

Low in its silver throat, 
Softly it murmurs, as it bears along, 

Leaves and flowers afloat. 



In a world of slumber, perfumed and deep, 

The dream time soft abides, 
When Nature grows drowsy, sinking to sleep, 

In the blessed eventide. 



NOVEMBER. 

In the sad, gray days of November, when the white mists 

are hanging low, 
When all the earth is wet with rain, and dreary winds 

wearily blow, 
My heart grows sad with passionate longing for the 

summer glory gone, 
When the earth was golden with sunshine, and birds 

sang exultant songs. 
All the wide sky was turquoise blue, and the great bay 

rippled with light 
As an ocean of molten, glowing gold might gleam 

resplendently bright. 
Now sad and dark the waters lie, under skies that are 

leaden and drear, 
And the sullen murmur of the rising tide fills me with 

restless fear. 



22 THL PASSING OF THE SAGEBRUSH 

Beneath my window dead leaves lie, and rustle in the 

rising wind 
In plaintive, ghost-like anger at a world so darkened 

and dimmed. 
The trees, bereft of their mantle of green, toss desolate 

branches bare, 
Slender white stalks that once held flowers, guarded with 

loving care 
Through the long bright days of summer time, a row of 

spectres stand, 
Swaying and bending in mute protest of the Autumn's 

chilling hand 
That snatched their leaves and blossoms, leaving the 

ghostly stalks 
To a sad remembrance of beauty gone from flower- 
bordered walks. 

All the dead hopes I had laid away, with heart-ache and 

bitter sigh, 
Come thronging out of their resting place, and one by 

one pass by. 
The gray sky weeps with piteous tears, the wind sighs a 

requiem low 
For these ghosts of my past that the Autumn brings, out 

of the long ago. 
The air is filled with brooding regret, the face of Nature 

is sad, 
I wonder if ever again my heart will be blithesome and 

glad; 
I long, with all the strength of my soul, to sweep the 

gray months away 
And bring back the smile to Nature's face she wears 

on a Summer's day. 



THE PASSING OF THE SAGEBRUSH 23 



ROSE. O' THE JUNE.. 

Through the night air comes gently stealing 
Fragrance most wondrous and rare, 

All the radiant wonder of June time revealing 
As the perfume fills the air. 

From high, pine-clad hills the wind wanders downv 

Bringing odors spicy and sweet, 
Softly it murmurs, with musical sound, 

Of forests, green, somber and deep. 

The breath of old ocean is borne softly in 

On the breast of the restless tide, 
It tells of great waters, starlit and dim, 

A vast expanse, silent and wide. 

From afar comes the scent of new-mown hay, 

All dewy and fresh is the air, 
And the mind flashes back to radiant day, 

With the hours of sunlit care. 

But, oh, 'tis the scent of the great June rose, 

That stirs my heart and soul, 
As through the night its fragrance goes 

In sweeping, perfumed roll. 

And loves I had thought were long since dead 

Pulse and throb as of old; 
And hopes I had lost lift up their head, 

Suddenly brave and bold. 

My youth returns in a riotous flood, 

Sweeping the years away; 
The scent of the rose throbs warm in my blood, 

Bringing a long-lost day.. 



24 THE PA55ING OF THE SAGEBRUSH 

Oh far, lost day! Oh dear, dead youth! 

Revived by the scent of the rose. 
'Tis a magical perfume, in very truth, 

The heart of the blossom throws. 

And of all the perfumes the night wind brings, 
The scent of the rose in bloom 

Is the sweetest fragrance it bears on its wings, 
In a magical night o' the June. 

THE. LAND OF VISIONS. 

A dreamer of dreams am I, they say, 

Possessed of a fancy wild 
That wanders at will the long, bright day, 

In the Land of Visions a child. 

A child at play in a wonderful land, 

Where the sands are shimmering gold, 

Where mountains of silver majestic stand 
Outlined in beauty bold. 

In the Land of Visions I dream my dreams, 

So beautiful are they 
That when I would tell, the words all seem 

Wordless of what I would say. 

Oft out and away to this mystical land 

On my ship of fancy I sail; 
Never alone on the deck do I stand 

For my dream-mates never fail. 

There is one at the helm, and the pilot, too, 
Is one of my dreams most dear. 
I am the soul of this strange crew, 
And direct them as they steer. 



THE PASSING OF THE SAGEBRUSH 25 

"Ho, for the Land of Visions!" I cry, 

But few there are who will play. 
For some will dream, some laugh, some sigh, 

So wags the world away. 



SONGS OF THE NIGHT. 



WIND O' THE. NIGHT. 

The wind crept out of the heart o' the Night, 
And scampered merrily to and fro, 

Shaking the trees with sudden might, 
Then singing a lullaby soft and low. 



It curled the dark water in restless waves 
That swayed and broke into foam; 

It rustled the grass on lonely graves, 
It sang, it shrieked, it moaned. 



All through the night it played hide-and-seek, 
With the moonbeams cold and pale; 

It swayed loose doors with strange, odd creak, 
And billowed the folds of snow-white sails. 



Out over the sea ; with exultant swing, 
It swept toward the boundless West, 

Through countless miles, on tireless wings, 
'Till the dawn in the East said: "Rest!" 



26 THE PASSfNG OF THL 5AGLBRU5H 



LULLABY O' THL NIGHT. 

Oh, the wind is in the west, 
And the birds are on their nests. 

Sleep, my little one, sleep. 
The bright stars softly peep, 
From out the night sky deep, 

Sleep, my little one, sleep. 

Lullaby, sing the wind and the night, 
Lullaby, echo the stars so bright, 

Hush, my dear one, hush. 
The waters throbbing along the shore 
Murmur a lullaby ever more, 

Hush, my dear one, hush. 

All night long on mother's breast, 
Thou shalt lie and sweetly rest, 

Sleep, my baby, sleep. 
The wind, the night, the stars and I, 
Will guard and heed thy slightest cry, 

Sleep, my baby, sleep. 

A passion of love enfolds thee, dear, 
Thou canst rest and never fear, 

Rest, my little one, rest, 
Cuddle thy head and close thine eyes, 
Rest to the wind and night's soft sighs, 

Rest, my baby, rest. 

Lullaby, hushaby, slumber and dream, 

In the hush and love of night's soft gleam, 

Sleep, my little one, sleep. 
Wrapt and enfolded in love thou art, 
With God and the night thou art a part, 

Sleep, my little one, sleep. 



THE, PA55ING OF THL SAGEBRUSH 27 



MIST O' THE. NIGHT. 

In from the sea creeps a silvery mist, 
From afar where wind and tide have kissed 

Comes this shimmering' mist o' the night. 
Under the gleaming- rays of the moon 
Of silver all are the threads of the loom, 

Weaving this wondrous mist o' the night. 

As the gossamer threads a spider weaves 
In and out among summer's green leaves, 

Are the threads of this mist o' the night. 
.Low it floateth o'er the cold, wet earth, 
Ghost-like it hovereth in silent mirth, 

This softly mysterious mist o' the night. 

Always clingeth and hovereth low, 
But a few feet above the ground below 

Rises this silent mist o' the night. 
With ghostly fingers it feels its way, 
The soft waves quiver, then forward sway, 

Slowly advancing the mist o' the night. 

A feeling of reverence steals over me, 
For a marvelous beauty my eyes can see 

In this shining mist o' the night. 
I always fancy 'tis the breath of the sea, 
That creepeth so silently over the lea, 

When cometh this mist o' the night. 



28 THE PASSING OF THE SAGEBRUSH 



MOON O' THE. NIGHT. 

A marvelous thing is thy silvery light, 

Moon o' the silent night, 
Filling the world with radiance bright, 

Silver moon o' the night. 

Never there was on land or sea, 

Moon o' the wonderful night, 
A light more tender, more pure to see, 

Moon o' the radiant night. 

In luminous silver streams thy beams, 

Moon o' the lovely night, 
Run down the masts of ships that gleam, 

Moon o' the whispering night. 

The tide of the sea, that ebbs and flows, 

Moon o' the dreaming night, 
To a molten sea of silver glows, 

Moon o' the beaming night. 

My soul is swept with a passion of awe, 
Moon o' the God-given night, 

Thy light is one of His marvelous laws, 
Moon o' the God-given night. 

Thou lightest the world when day is done, 

Moon o' the shining night, 
Reflector thou art for the golden sun, 

Silver moon o' the night. 



THE. PA55ING OF THE SAGE-BRUSH 29 



NIGHT O' THE. JUNE.. 

Thou, God, who filleth the night with light, 
The light of the stars and moon, 

My soul worships thy wondrous might, 
This silver night o' the June. 

Ah, never a night more radiant than this 
Hast Thou flung from out Thy hand. 

The world is thrilling with marvelous bliss, 
Blending the sounds in an anthem grand. 

The roll of the sea, and the wind o' the June. 

And the stirring of life in the earth, 
Blend in the chorus of a resonant tune, 

Singing to God, who gave them birth. 

The song is vibrant with splendid chords 

That only the soul can hear; 
To catch the chord is supreme reward 

For the soul that bends an ear. 

The soul must be reverent and all-serene, 
If its ear would hear the chords, 

It must thrill with love of night's soft gleam, 
And the marvel of tender green swards. 

In a passion of awe my thoughts upward roll, 
For the chords that resound in the tune 

Are thrilling and filling the depths of my soul, 
This tender night o' the June. 



30 THE PA55ING OF THE SAGEBRUSH 



NIGHT ON THE PLAINS. 

The western wind sweeps down from the peaks, 
And the gold dies out of the light, 

Over the prairie the shadows creep, 
As soft falls the darkening night. 

The rustling grass murmurs soft and low 

A song that is centuries old. 
Out of the heart of the long ago 

The melody gently rolls. 

Far off through the night the coyotes cry. 

And the gray wolf stealthily walks, 
While overhead, in the darkened sky, 

Wheel swiftly the drear night hawks. 

The great night sky hovers over me, 

Gleaming with silver stars, 
Faint is the light, I cannot see, 

What danger may lurk afar. 

Yet serene I am, and unafraid, 

With dauntless, steadfast heart; 

Knowing my God hath never betrayed 
A soul that trusts His dark. 



THL PASSING OF THE 5AGLBRUSH 31 



THE MESSAGE OF THE STARS. 

The air is keen, the night grows cold, 
Shadows lie deep on the earth, 

The radiant stars are centuries old, 
And no man knows of their birth. 

How many Nations, oh shining stars, 

Hast thou watched in the rise and fall! 

For a time they flourished, then afar, 
Out of dim ages there came a call. 

A call that was sounded when time began, 
And will ring 'till the end of the stars, 

A call that was heard by earth's first man, 
As the echo rang near and far. 

Yet still thou shinest, serene and pure, 
Though the nations rise and fall, 

Knowing through time thou shalt endure, 
Thou sendest a message to all. 

And this is thy message, oh stars of the night, 

That he who runs, may read: 
Though out of dim ages the call may come 

That will end the span of thy seed, 

Be content to know thou hast filled thy place, 
In the scheme of the stars and the earth, 

And the Master Mind that created thy race 
Had a purpose in giving it birth. 



32 THE PA551NG OF THE SAGEBRUSH 



THE MESSAGE OF THE NIGHT. 

Ever the tide sways to and fro 
In endless, fathomless swing; 

And the restless waters come and go 
As a bird on tireless wing. 

All night long, in the ears of my soul, 
The sounds of the waves of the sea 

Pulse and throb in ceaseless roll, 
Strange melodies singing to me. 

My soul is serene and unafraid, 
Yet quivers with reverent thrill; 

'Tis the voice of God, and undismayed 
My soul would listen to do His will. 

The voice of God is heard at night 

As never it can be by day; 
The wind and waters and dim starlight 

Reveal His laws alway. 

The law of the tide in its endless sway, 
The law of the wind from the west, 

The law of work for the long, long day, 
The law of night for the rest. 

The future lies hidden behind its veil, 
Yet I know, in the dim starlight, 

That ultimate good must somehow prevail 
In the final triumph of right. 



THL PA55ING OF THL SAGLBRU5H 33 

ETERNAL SLEEP. 

And if, perchance, the end is sleep, 

When the last, sad rites are said, 
Why fear the end, the slumber deep, 

The rest for thy weary head? 

To sleep, to dream, while shadows fall, 

And night has come to stay; 
Why fear the end, if this be all, 

That greets thy close of day? 

To rest in peace, thy labor done, 

Thy cares all laid away; 
Why fear the end, if this must corner 

To meet thy close of day? 

THE RIVER THAT RUN5 BETWEEN. 

Night! before me the river dark, 

Behind, life's crowded sea. 
(No more to hear the song of the lark, 

And the rustle of the tree!) 

Wide runs the river, black and wide. 

No sun gleams gold on its wave. 
(No more to watch the foaming tide, 

And hear the Storm King rave!) 

Over the river, somber and deep, 

The shore lies hidden from me. 
(No more the wind when I wake from sleep,- 

And the murmur of the sea!) 

Night! the river runs dark and swift, 

Behind, the light of day. 
But, see! The shadows begin to lift! 

Oh, now I would not stayf 



34 THL PASSING OF THE, SAGEBRUSH 

Beloved, beloved, I come to thee! 

Through night and shadows dark 
Thy voice is calling, calling to me. 

(Forgotten the song of the lark!) 



THL DIGNITY OF LABOR. 

There is no labor, however humble, whether of hand or 
brain, 

That holds not dignity and truth. 
There is no task so small or menial it can carry shame, 

If we dignify its use. 

In the World's Workshop are many tasks, both small 
and great, 

Each with purpose and with place. 
Shame only comes when one stands idle and sullenly waits 

For a task of particular grace. 

No matter how small a cog you may be in the Wheel of 
Work, 
You have your part. 
Let this thought comfort you, and forget the throbbing 
hurt, 
The dull despair, the smart. 

Give to each task the best of all that is within you, 

Then rest content. 
To the dignity of labor and thine own honor be true, 

Thy task do not resent. 



THE PA55ING OF THE 5AGLBRUSH 35 

THE. TEMPLES OF GOD. 

When thy heart is heavy, and the world is dreary, 
And thy soul sinks under the weight of days 

'Till each rosy dawn finds thee utterly weary, 
Go forth and learn of thy God and His ways, 
And drink of the strength of His hills. 

Great forests lie wide, miles of gold on green, 
As the sunlight caresses the whispering leaves, 

A blue haze floats low, as the mists of a dream, 
Singing deep in its throat a wandering breeze 
Passes by on fluttering wings. 

In these Temples of God, built by His hands, 
Sermons lie written on stones and on trees; 

A tower of strength yonder great hill stands, 
Drink deep of its might, oh soul that grieves, 
And thy world-wounds shall be healed. 

A wonderful peace shall enter thy heart, 
Lifting up the weight of the dreary days, 

Thou shalt learn thy soul is an infinite part 
Of the earth and forest and glad sun rays, 
All one with God and His hills. 

GOD-IN-ALL. 

The broad, smooth river sweeps slowly by, winding its 

way to the sea, 
Deep in its quiet depths snow-white clouds sail silently, 
Tall, green trees and sad, dark stumps long wavering 

shadows cast, 
Faithfully mirrored in the silvery flood forever flowing 

past, 
And flower-embroidered banks peep tremblingly down 

below 
Where always the lights and shadows mingle, blend 

and glow. 



36 THE PA55ING OF THE, 5AGLBRU5H 

By day the splendid sun flings out a wealth of golden life 

Till each bud, flower and leaf quivers with radiant delight: 

The green earth is glad, with life running full and free, 

From the roots to the branches swift surging in riotous 

glee; 

The tiniest living thing receives its sun and dew, 

Lifting an eager face up toward the sky's far blue. 

The massive mountains lift snow-clad peaks in proud 

humility; 
Trusting the Creator's hand they stand in calm serenity 
Through swift-moving years that drink not of their might, 
Nor dim their beauty, nor take the sublime from their 
heights. 
Wide, wind-swept plains, that lie at their feet, 
Exult in the glory of solitudes vast and deep. 

The far-flung, radiant splendor of the glowing, setting sun 

In glory sublime flames on high when each long day is done. 

In swift-moving strokes the Master Hand paints the beauty 
rare, 

Till the earth and sea and sky Kis marvelous colors wear. 
Then vast purple shadows chase the splendor away, 
As night comes swift to view the close of day. 

How dear, how soothing to man, arises the idea of God, 
The Over-soul, in-all, through-all, even the humble sod 
Pulsing with His life: peopling the wide, waste places, 
The lonely heights, the vast azure-stretching spaces, 

An all-enfolding Spirit, that slumbers not nor sleeps, 
But always and forever watch e'er the Universe keeps. 



THE PA55ING OF THL 5AGLBRU5H 37 



THE PRISONER. 

Many a man lives prisoner through years of ceaseless 

strife, 
Creed-bound, Tie worships not truth, but some dogma 

stern. 
With eyes doctrine-blinded he stumbles on through his 

life; 
Though the books lie opened, in anger he refuses to 

learn, 
Censuring as wholly false all splendid, helpful truth 
That lies outside his creed; sadly bitter in his abuse. 

In the mind's domain he forges the chains that bind him. 
He tests them well, they are strong, they will hold 

for years. 
Safely fastened to Old Tradition he treads down a pathway 

dim, 
A prisoner in a narrow lane, his eyes oftimes heavy 

with tears . 
For those who walk outside, in the splendid glare of the 

light, - . 

Their smiling faces upward thrown, their eyes serene 

and bright. 

"They have followed False Gods!" the prisoner clanks 

his chains 
As he hugs his doctrine close: "They have strayed 

from the fold, 
They are lost!" he cries in anger, as he bitterly blames 
New creeds, yet New Thoughts are drawn from 

thoughts ages old, 
Long lost in a mist of doctrines and a maze of words 

confused, 
Their splendid truth concealed, their message long misused. 



38 THE PASSING OF THE. SAGEBRUSH 

"Thou shalt know the truth and the truth shall make 

thee free." 
The prisoner may break his chains; yet, 'tis he, and 

he alone, 
Who is master of his freedom; no man can know the 

truth for thee. 
Many seek, then sadly say: "I asked for bread and 

ye gave me a stone," 
As they turn from creed-bound teachers and seek in other 

fields 
Where truth, in all its wondrous beauty, is reverently 

revealed. 



THE. COMMON-PEOPLE.. 

"God must have loved the Common-people, he made so 
many of them," said one 

Who was God's own noble-man, and of the Common- 
people a son. 

The words he uttered were worthy of him, they came from 
his reverent heart, 

He was proud, with splendid pride, that he was a vibrant 
part 
Of the mass of the Common-people. 

Because they toil in the World's Work-shop, and toil has 

soiled their hands, 
Full irany a sneer and many a jeer is cast by him who 

stands 
Safely above the Common-people, on a gilded platform, 

erected at such a cost 
That tender heart and reverent soul in hideous selfishness 

are lost 
As he renders thanks he is not of the Common-people. 



THE. PASSING OF THE. SAGE.BRUSH 39 

They are noble words, the Common-people, the toilers 

with hands and heart, 
In the field, in the factory, steadily doing their splendid 

part 
That the destiny of the Country, upheld and moulded by 

toil-stained hands 
May shape itself to the noble and their honest lives' 

demand, 
A nation supported by the Common-people. 

When comes the call, "To Arms!" how gladly the Common- 
people offer their lives 

That their Country, intact, protected by them, may long 
survive. 

A mighty sound rolls from their throats, as countless 
thousands grandly sing, 

"My Country, 'tis of thee," a majestic song that throbs 
and rings 
With the patriotism of the Common-people. 

With bared head, reverent heart, and humble soul, offer 

thanks on bended knee 
That working and striving from . rolling sea to rolling 

sea 
Are the Common-people; honor the hands that are soiled 

and hardened by toil, 
The factory worker, the laborer, the many tillers of soil, 
The God-given mass of the Common-people. 



40 THL PAS5ING OF THE. SAGEBRUSH 



A PRAYER 

Grant, oh Thou Great Creator, that each day of my life 

may be 
Filled with the peace and glory that comes from knowledge 

of Thee. 
For Thou art Infinite Wisdom, Thy truth so wondrous fair 
That he who grasps its marvel flings away all sorrow and 

care; 
Trusting the slow, sure years to reveal the purpose of ps.in 
And anguish and gladness, the mingling of sunshine and 

rain. 

Our strength grows out of our weakness, a mistake a 

lesson learned 
Out of the Book of Life; full measure of compensation 

earned 
In new-born strength of soul, in new tenderness for all 

mankind. 
Grant,, oh Master Builder, that folds of prejudice may 

not blind 
The windows of my soul; may I search until, at last 

I find 
The brotherhood of man; the divine in each the cord 

that binds: 

May B see Thy glory in every flower and tiny blade of grass, 
May I hear Thy voice in wandering winds, whisper as they 

pass; 
Out of the deep-running- river, out of the tide's ebb and 

flow, 
May Thy message come; in swift-falling raim in- pure, 

spotless- snow 
May T read Thy sermon; the ultimate good of all revealed 
Though, the immediate purpose is deeply concealed,. 



THE, PASSING OF THE, SAGLBRUSH 41 

May splendid thoughts deep and wide with truth stir my 

mind and soul, 
May I know the birth of one great thought can purify 

the whole; 
Erasing the blots of bitterness, of envy, of despair, 
'Till all the pages of my mind are stainless, wondrous fair; 
May Love, the keynote of existence, dominate my life, 
Eringing an infinite peace, my freedom from sorrow and 

strife. 



THE. COMMON HEART. 

The God of Nature breaks down every wall 
That the heart in thee be the heart of all. 
So one blood rolls on its endless way 
Throughout all men, and continues its sway 
In an onward moving, sweeping tide 
That thrusts obstruction far aside. 

Within each man is the living soul 
Of the Mighty One, the Eternal Whole. 
One with all others, a common heart, 
No man can stand by himself apart. 
The same great power creates all life, 
Accept thy gift and cease thy strife. 



42 THE PA55ING OF THE, SAGEBRUSH 



MY FRIEND AND I. 

With my friend I am wholly sincere, 

I voice the thoughts that I hold most dear. 

I speak the truth as it comes to me, 

I bring my dreams for my friend to see. 

The old, keen sorrows that I laid away 

In a secret lair, from the light of day, 

I drag forth again that this friend of mine, 

Whom the Great God gave me for endless time, 

May counsel with me, and bring sweet release, 

Turning hidden anguish to smiling peace. 

Happy my house when it shelters my friend, 

Well might it be built to this single end! 

To commune for an hour, in perfect accord 

With a kindred soul, is supreme reward 

For lonely years when the world hurried by 

Unheeding my presence with a smile, or sigh. 

Who hears me, who knows me, becomes mine own: 

Life grants this gift for all woes to atone. 

I thank the Creator, on bended knee, 

For thee, my friend, whom He gave to me. 




HP 



II 



